Captive
by dajems
Summary: Short Story I had to write for class. Took me about 15 minutes. Supposed to be based off of Edgar Allen Poe's style.


James Blazevic

Mr. McEvoy

6th hour

Captive

Am I insane? I may be. Shall we define insanity? Insanity is committing the same action repeated times and expecting a different result. So am I truly insane? Possibly, but perhaps a more appropriate word is _zealous_. That is the most adequate description I can think of. Who wouldn't do what I need for even the slim chance of rescuing a loved one. Behind iron bars though, I know that now she is safe, no matter the cost. Of course, I wasn't always this way; shall we start at the beginning?

A simple life. Very simple. I owned a small house of one of the small off streets of an even smaller town. The only real points of pride in my life were my wife, and my little girl,  
Sophia. I did anything and everything for them. For the longest time we were happy. We would have stayed that way if _they_ had not moved in. For at first they seemed innocent enough, but they could not keep up their schemes forever. A sweet looking old lady looking after her less-than- able nephew aroused no suspicion in a town that never appreciated outsiders. For the first few years they melded into the community by befriending respected individuals. The first incident was four years after they moved in. one child disappeared. Another child vanished a year later. Every year for six years a child would vanish off our streets never to be heard from again.

I watched a waited, though. At the beginning of every year and until the annual kidnapping, Sophia never left my sight. I became overly cautious at all times except the lonely hours of the night.

It was a particularly cold may when I heard a shatter and a scream. I knew that scream. It seemed to tear apart reality. It rent my heart and curdled my blood in a way I never felt before. I flew outside and the spring air chilled my bones. A van screamed away from my house as I burst outside.

I nearly collapsed on the spot. Darkness stretched around me. The shadows cast by the porch light seemed to stretch ghostly fingers toward me. She could not be gone. This was my fault. I was not going to sit idly though. I ran into the night. For hours I searched the street. It seemed as though the van had vanished, consumed by the darkness that threatened to consume me. It corroded my resolve and ate away at my soul. I searched until the early hours of the morning. I did not stop. I could not stop. I continued to prowl the street.

As I rounded a hill I saw red and blue flashing lights. A tell tale sign of police. I sprinted forward, hoping they found Sophia. I heard the sound of a struggle and questioning. As I drew closer I could make out a van parked in front of a near ramshackle house.

_They couldn't have taken her_. I thought.

As the cops pulled away I could see a pale visage staring at me from a window. Her eyes glowed with malevolence and she turned away from me. It was our neighbors, the boy and his aunt. They didn't have the capability to kidnap anyone. No. They did. Nobody suspected them. When the lights had vanished into the distance I charged the house. I through myself through the door and it smashed to pieces.

Enveloped in darkness once again I crept though the house. The sane part of me told me to turn back. The fatherly part told me to forge on. I could almost hear the ghostly cries of the children they had taken. I rounded the corner and saw her sitting in a chair, her back to me.

"They took the boy of course." She hissed without turning around. "Nobody suspects the old lady. Now that you know, unfortunately, I have to kill you before I kill your daughter."

I ran at her as she turned around, something glinting in her hand. There was a bang and a searing sensation in my shoulder. My body registered neither of them. I hit her full force and we crashed to the floor. Correction, _through_ the floor. We fell for a few seconds before crashing to the ground with the distinctive crunch of bones. Her eyes lost their evil stare as her head lolled to the side.

"Daddy?" a small voice asked me.

A murderer? yes.

Crazy? possibly.

Insane? No.

A father? Most definitely.

My actions have been justified, as my little girl is safe again.


End file.
